


Return to Sender

by Ladytalon



Category: Angel: the Series
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-08
Updated: 2010-06-08
Packaged: 2017-10-10 00:19:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/93180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ladytalon/pseuds/Ladytalon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Another prompt from Guinny, she wanted to be Mary Sue'd into returning some of Marcus' mail that she rec'd by mistake.  As you can tell by the rating, hotness ensues.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Return to Sender

**Author's Note:**

> Another prompt from Guinny, she wanted to be Mary Sue'd into returning some of Marcus' mail that she rec'd by mistake. As you can tell by the rating, hotness ensues.

  
**Rating:** NC-17  
**Disclaimer:** Not mine, not making any $$  
&lt;

________________________________________

  
_Alone at last, _ Marcus thought to himself as he opened the door of his penthouse, tugging on the knot of his tie to loosen it. The tie along with the expensive suit jacket hit a nearby chair and slid off to the floor as he made his way into the kitchen. He'd never needed a drink more, with the Fell Brethren business that Angel had nearly derailed, so he picked out the most expensive bottle of wine present and uncorked it before heading to the bathroom for a shower. No matter how much he longed to drain the entire bottle in one inelegant swig, even humans knew that wine must breathe.

He left his clothes in a heap and turned the water on full blast and as hot as it would go, sighing with pleasure as the nearly scalding water pounded down on his body. Marcus soaped himself slowly, leaning back against the tiles to run his hands down his stomach – he could, of course, simply pick up the phone and an eager whore would be there in minutes to help him relieve his tension…but he was too tired to even make the effort. Plus, they always wanted something. Money, power, money, an orgasm, money… he was in no mood to give anyone anything. _Perhaps later, when I care about my reputation a bit more. But for now… _Marcus reached between his legs to knead and pull on his heavy sac, stroking his hardening cock roughly with his other hand until it strained away from his body eagerly. A palmful of shampoo provided satisfactory lubrication and he ran his hand up and down his thick length leisurely, closing his eyes and thinking of the short brunette he had seen in the hall occasionally. He couldn't quite recall what color her eyes were, but she had a mouth that looked as if she were born to suck cock – he imagined her on her knees before him, rolling his balls in one tiny hand while the other held him firmly so that she could lick and… "Ah, yes," he groaned, shoving his hips forward as he climaxed. Encircling his shaft with thumb and forefinger, he moved his hand from root to tip, squeezing hard before washing off quickly and stepping from the shower.

Now, he could finally begin to relax. His balls were high and tight against his body, filled with a pleasant ache as he pulled on a pair of black silk pajama pants and padded barefoot out to the living room. Marcus flipped on the television as he went past it into the kitchen to retrieve the wine bottle and a cut crystal goblet, and came back to collapse on the huge settee while he poured himself a glass. "Let's see here…no, no, no…" he changed the channels rapidly, pausing to admire a particularly gory scene on the nightly news. Wasn't there anything decent on? A few more channels went by, and he was about to simply throw the remote control through the screen when he paused at one of the women's channels. A show named Bliss was just beginning, whatever that was, and he set the control down on the cushions. "This looks like it might be interesting."

The show turned out to be interesting indeed – who knew that women had this type of thing targeted at them? The couple onscreen was indulging in some sort of soft-core sex scene and he sipped his wine, stretching out his legs on the small table in front of him. Perhaps he _should_ call a prostitute after all. Marcus was in the act of reaching for the phone when a knock on the door interrupted his thoughts. Who could possibly be knocking on his door at this time of night? He rose to his feet and walked over to crack the door open, ready in case it was one of Angel's minions come to try him on for size.

There in the hall, stood the woman he'd been thinking of during his shower.

"May I help you?" he asked, for it quickly became apparent that she was too busy staring at his bare chest to speak first.

"Oh! Um, hi." She raised her eyes to his face. "I came to give you my mail."

Marcus smiled and opened the door wider to expose more of his body. "I have enough of my own," he pointed out.

"I mean, give you your mail. Which was in my slot. I mean, my mail slot. The one that the postman puts the mail…shit. I got mail, some of your mail was mixed in, here it is. That's what I meant," she said, shoving two envelopes at him. "I'll just be going…to hang myself…"

She turned away, and he released the door handle to step into the hall and catch her by the arm. "Wait, I don't even know your name," he said.

"Guinny. You're Marcus," she said unnecessarily.

"I am, indeed." He still had his hand on her arm, and as she didn't seem to be protesting his restraint, he kept it there. She had very smooth skin. "Does the mailman make that sort of mistake often?" he teased, wanting to hear her speak again – she had an accent he couldn't quite place. He wondered how it would sound if she were to scream his name aloud in bed.

She reached her other hand up to brush her dark hair from her eyes. "Maybe he did and I just kept whatever it was," Guinny said boldly. Behind him the television was still on and the couple was obviously in the throes of passion once more, judging from the moans issuing from the speakers. Eyes widening as she looked up at him, she peered past him curiously. "You're watching _Bliss_? I love that show!"

"Would you like to come and watch with me?" he asked, deliberately omitting the "in" from his invitation and waiting to see if she had noticed. Her smile widened and she slipped past him to perch on the edge of the settee, eyes fixed on the television. Marcus walked over slowly to sit beside her, dropping an arm casually across the back cushions. Onscreen, the moans redoubled and he glanced over at his visitor just as she looked up at him. "Enjoying the show?"

"Not really." Her eyes dropped from his down to his mouth, then back up. Never let it be said that Marcus Hamilton couldn't take a hint. He slid over slightly and reached a hand up to touch her cheek, his fingers gripping her chin gently as he leaned in. "I usually never do this sort of thing," she murmured.

"No? Me neither," he breathed before he slanted his mouth over hers. He blessed whatever vision problems the mailman was inflicted with as her hands began to run over his torso, and he pulled her onto his lap with one smooth movement. "I've seen you downstairs." Marcus slid two fingers between the buttons of her shirt and pulled, sending them flying – they both laughed when a button ricocheted off the television screen – before pulling it free of her arms and discarding it.

Guinny fastened her mouth to his neck, nibbling and sucking on the sensitive skin in a way that was endangering the small amount of control he still possessed. "So do you do this with all your neighbors?"

"Just the ones that steal my electricity bills." Marcus grinned and tugged at her skirt, which shortly joined the ruins of her shirt. His thought process stuttered to an abrupt halt when she reached a hand down to cup his groin, caressing him through the silk. "Mmmm…"

"Like that, do you?" She squeezed playfully and was rewarded by a second, much louder, moan. "I guess you do." He tried to pull her closer, but was stopped by her other hand on his chest. "Marcus… I really don't do this sort of thing often."

He reached back and opened the clasp of her bra with a skilful twist of his fingers. "Don't worry…your secret is safe with me." A palm on the small of her back forced her to arch into him and he closed his teeth on the small bow situated between her breasts, pulling the lingerie away from her. Guinny laughed at the sight of him with her bra in his teeth, and he could sense that she wouldn't fight the mutual attraction any longer. _Finally we have what we both want. _ The remainder of their clothing – her panties and his pajamas – was hastily shed and then she was sinking onto his cock.

Marcus suckled her breasts as she began to move on him, aiding her movement by placing his hands on her hips and pushing up into her heat. "Harder," she moaned at him. He obeyed gladly, thrusting into her until he felt her convulse around him – when she had collapsed onto his chest, he turned her around so that she faced away from him and moved to the edge of the settee.

"You might want to hang onto something," he advised her, bracing his feet and gripping her hip with one hand while he reached around to her left breast with the other. She cast a surprised look back at him, but reached down to curl her fingers around each of his thighs – he let her find her preferred grip before he began to move. Marcus worked the last vestiges of annoyance and frustration from his system as he slammed up into her, his eyes fastened on the delectable view she presented him with. He locked both of his hands on her hips to hold her in place as he felt himself nearing his release, gritting his teeth as her walls clamped down on him once more. _Just a little more, not yet, not yet…_ His control was lost when she reached down and palmed his balls, pulling down sharply. It was his turn to groan "Harder" and when she complied he came with a guttural moan, exploding within her and trembling from the force of his release.

She fell back against him as he raised his feet to the edge of the table, raising his knees enough for her to lie back on his chest. "Oh, my god. That was…wow," she panted at him. He shifted slightly to still keep them connected, pressing his face into the back of her neck as he waited for his pulse to slow. Guinny murmured more praise which certainly did no damage to his ego, and he rolled them both onto the floor where he slipped from her and propped himself up on an elbow.

He glanced up at the television which was now filled with static – they must have hit the remote control sometime during their frenzied coupling, he thought in amusement. "So do you have any other mail for me, or was that it?" he asked.

"I can recognize that as my cue to get going," Guinny said, starting to sit up and reach for her clothing.

Marcus stopped her by placing a muscular arm across her and holding her down. He laughed and rolled over atop her. "I've been dropping my old bills in your mail slot for weeks." He laughed again at her surprised expression. "It's about time you brought it over yourself."

"You set me up," she realized.

He rested his hands on either side of her head and looked down at her, scrutinizing her face. "I did. Do you mind?"

Guinny smiled and reached up to pull him back down to her. "You'll have to make it up to me."

"Sounds like a plan."

  


~*~END~*~

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